


The Fire in Your Heart

by EmeraldSage



Series: A Wrinkle in Crinoline [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 5+1 Things, A lot of Angst tho, Brief moments of humor, Crossdressing, Espionage, Gen, Historical Hetalia, I don't have all five yet, I don't have the others yet tho, I'm so tired of waiting to put this up, Literally a YEAR waiting for this one, The White House is Burning, War of 1812, sorry - Freeform, this is part 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: It's August 1814, and the White House blazes like the fire in his heart.





	The Fire in Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Originally from the 5+1 collection of Times Alfred Crossdressed and Got Away With It
> 
> Alfred's name the others use is Amelia, shortened to Lee by Anna.

            This god-be-damned dress was slowing him down, but it was the only thing keeping him _safe_.  What in the name of fucking _irony_.

            The secret passage ways in the White House had always been held close to his chest, but that intimate knowledge was what they needed right now.  It was also the only reason that there were a group of misfits who were running around the long-abandoned house, trying to complete the last-minute frantic orders of President and Dolly Madison.

            Jesse – the only man amongst their group and a civilian at that – swore softly when voices started to echo against one of the walls, and no one could even _time_ how quickly they splayed themselves against the opposite side.  He heard hands slap against mouths and breathing hushed, but all of it was drowned out by the boisterous, malicious laughter of the redcoats dining in the White House that evening.

            A hand rested on his arm, and he glanced at Mary, the brave young woman who’d snuck into the army cross-dressing two years ago and had stuck with him since then, and let his gaze drop.  “It’ll be okay,” she said, but there was a waver in his voice, “we’ll get to safety.  He smiled briefly, pained, before he glanced to the other woman, who was dressed as an _actual_ woman, raising a brow.

            “We have to find out what they’re doing,” she said, and Mary glanced at her nervously, fingering the pistol in its holster at her belt, before looking back to Alfred.  Jesse eyed him as well, well aware that under the blue-dyed cotton dress there was a young man, but didn’t make a fuss.  He hadn’t expected it from one of Kassidy’s boys anyways, and Jesse’s loud-mouthed, obnoxious, but overprotective tendencies were comforting for all of them.

            They’d been together for the last week, dodging British forces and US armies, never daring to rest with the information that they held close to their hearts.

            _The British were going to march on Washington City_.

            They’d only just gotten the President and his men out in time.  Dolly Madison had stayed long enough to smuggle some paintings and state secrets with her as the carriage had taken her out of harm’s way, and the slaves had abandoned the building the moment she’d cleared the lawn, dinner still warm on the table.

            The same dinner his father and his men were now partaking in.

            He felt the flush of rage thrum through his system but he pushed it down.  Now was certainly not the time for it, not when they still had business to complete.

            “We haven’t the time right now, Anna,” he said after a moment when the quiet had settled, and hitched up the skirts – much less hassle than the French ball gown he’d worn decades ago – to make his way through one of the thicker walled passageways.  “This way,” he insisted, “We have to finish our job first.”

            The dark-haired woman reluctantly acquiesced, hitching her own skirts up and following him down the passageway.  Jesse and Mary, the only ones visibly armed, followed swiftly after them, watching for anything.

            The First Lady had gotten most of the most critical secrets from the Oval Office, but that didn’t mean she’d gotten all of them.  She’d moved them as best she could so the invading force wouldn’t find them right off the bat, told them where they were, and they prayed they’d manage to get the rest of those documents safe.

            When they arrived at where he _knew_ the entrance to be, he hushed them, before pressing his ear against the wall cautiously.  When there was no noise for a significant block, he sighed and reached for the door’s concealed mechanism.  There was a soft shifting noise in the wall, before the door popped and slid outwards.  Alfred grinned, brushing sweaty bangs out of his face, and slipping into the room as soundlessly as he could.

            “Quickly,” he spoke in a hushed whisper, but the urgency in his tone was unmistakable, “we have to get out before they do.”  He left unspoken what it might mean if they didn’t make it out in time.  They’d all come into this mission knowing the consequences, after all.

            They shared a series of grimly determined looks, and set to work.

            It felt like hours to him.  They’d split up, even knowing how dangerous that might be, to cover all their bases in a very, increasingly _limited_ allotted time slot.  Jesse and Anna had tag teamed down the wing closer to the areas infested by the damned redcoats, much to his protest.  They were looking for any valuables that the lobster-backs might’ve missed.  Mary had headed down the secret passage ways again – being the only one in a uniform had drawbacks, after all, and this one included being recognized on sight – keeping an ear to the ground and would come fetch them if it seemed like they were running too close.  Alfred had headed directly into the danger zone – the Oval Office.

            He’s spent what felt like hours, but was probably less than one, combing through the destruction of the Office, pressing down the vicious, relentless surge of rage that rose in his chest at the sight, looking for the small bolt holes that he and his President had come up with in the event of something like this.  The First Lady had known of them too, and mercifully, she’d had time to stow the notes away there while she was in a frantic rush to leave.  He had found several stacks of critical documents scattered throughout the Office, thankfully.  He flattened one sheaf of papers and, sucking in his stomach, slid it down the back of his corset.  He rolled up another and tucked it in the loose rings hanging from one of his garters, specifically designed to carry rolled or slim weapons, which fit the sheaf easily enough.  He used a wad of twine to make sure none of them would come loose, before making a round one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

            There was a soft creak, and he whirled around as part of the wall wheeled open and Mary’s worn, dirt smudged face popped out.  Honey eyes filled with relief as she caught sight of him, “Oh Amelia, thank God.”

            “Mary,” he returned, equally relieved to see her alright, “has something happened?”

            “Not yet,” she said anxiously, “but the redcoats are gathering, and I’m getting worried.  They’re talking about some grand spectacle, and all I know is I don’t want us to be anywhere near them when it gets started.”

            Fair point.

            He followed her into the passageway, satisfied with what he’d recovered from the office despite the bubbling rage he held at bay, and they bolted for the occupied wing.  Anna and Jesse had headed that way, and if Mary came to find him first, they were still sitting pretty without any information to go off of.

            “I had Jesse get to Anna and we’ll meet them in one of the guest rooms,” she said into the soft, heavy silence of the passageway’s darkness.  “She was having trouble moving with some of the objects she’d found.”

            He nodded, knowing he’d end up taking some of Anna’s findings on his person, but hey, a nation’s strength was useful for a reason.  Silence descended again in the passage way, but this one was cautious and careful.  He’d let Mary take the lead – she knew which room they were going to after all – and he watched the shadows around them, carefully eyeing the trick doors that opened into the passageway, and all the different routes that emerged the closer they got to their destination.

            They took one turn and suddenly a wealth of sound resounded into their space, making them flinch backwards and take several steps back in retreat.  They froze waiting, one, two, three long, heart pounding seconds, before the sound of the redcoats chattering and barking order receded and the soldiers moved along.  They exchanged panicked, white faced looks, and proceeded even more carefully.

            “There wasn’t this much noise when I came to get you,” Mary whispered, practically in his ear, as they neared another noisy patch with some trepidation.

            “They’re going to head out soon,” he murmured back, equally quiet, “we’ll have to hurry.”  So they did.

            They exited the passageway into a pale colored hallway that looked distinctly red in the shadows of the lantern light nearby.  They crept through the open hallway and slid through a door nearby.  Anna jumped the moment the door had opened, but sighed in relief when she saw them, her grip on a roll of tightly packed cutlery easing as they slipped inwards.  Jesse, on the other hand, bit back an audible yelp, and nearly catapulted backwards onto his ass.

            They stared for a bit and the groaning young man, before Alfred snorted.  Mary raised a hand to cover the slight smile sliding onto his lips, and Anna barely restrained the hoot of laughter waiting to break through her lips.  “Well done, Jesse,” he said dryly.

            Jesse flipped him an offensive gesture, and Mary flushed next to him.  Alfred only grinned, lazy and predatory, ever the patient nation when he wanted to be, and merely retorted, “You wish.”

            A strangled snort emerged from the other corner of the room, and all eyes turned to Anna, with barely concealed amusement.  She shook the laughter off easily enough, after a moment of shameless giggles, and straightened to face them, mirth still dancing in her eyes.

            “Any problems, Anna?” he asked, concerned, because Mary _had_ mentioned that she was having an issue with the things she’d collected.

            “Yes,” she sighed, “there’s no way I’ll be able to fit all the cutlery in my garter without jingling as I walk,” she complained bluntly, making Jesse bubble up with haphazard protests, blushing a slight pink, “I’ve already sewn a few of the lighter ware into the folds of my skirt, so there’s no room there.  And there’s no way I’m shoving a bunch of knives down my corset – I’m not taking _that_ kind of risk while we’re running, no _thank_ you.   The Lord gave me Common Sense for a reason, after all.”

            He rolled his eyes as the others snickered or outright laughed, before holding his hand out, “Give it here,” he said, shifting up onto the bed and tugging his skirts up part of the way, “I can take one bundle and you take the other.  I’d hate to know how walking with both those sets in your garter would feel like.  I imagine it’d be a lot like an incompetent rogue trying to sneak his hand up a lady’s frock: too much fumbling to be fun for anyone.”  Anna hooted in delight, with Mary flushing bright red and Jesse just groaned.

            “Y’all are bad for my health,” he grumbled, and turned even redder when Alfred pulled his skirts up almost all the way, revealing a scandalously bare, toned thigh to the drafty room, the lacy garter just barely visible.  Anna passed him the wrapped silver cutlery with the country’s insignia and he unrolled it.  He lined the silverware up carefully, flat against the cloth, which he layered over the bumpy ends, and tied it tightly.  Then, he tucked it against the inside of his garter, so it lay flat against the skin.  He shivered a bit when the cold metal came in contact with his warm thigh, but he didn’t hesitate when he wrapped some of the twine they’d brought around the bundle first, then tying it firmly to the worn lacy silk so it wouldn’t move or fall.  Satisfied, he let the heavy fabrics fall again, and turned to Jesse with a wry smirk.

            “You’re so _proper_ ,” he mocked the flushed young man with a smile of good humor on his lips, “How’re you ever supposed to convince a woman to let _you_ up her skirts when you turn into a blushing wreck whenever a lovely lass twinkles her ankles at you?”

            He scowled, even as the blush colored his pale face bright red.  “That’s different!” he cried, and it set Anna into gales of uninhibited laughter, “Don’t laugh at me,” he groaned in an attempt to hiss at them, “You’re not my wife, and we’re both unmarried, you just _flashed me your garter_ you bastard, and – oi, it just ain’t proper, ya hear!” but it didn’t stop Alfred and Anna from laughing and Mary’s flush finally died down enough that she giggled along with them.

            “It was coming from this way, sir,” a voice spoke over their laughter, and suddenly the room they were in went as silent as the grave.  They froze, horrified, dreadful anticipation mounting in their veins as they realized they could hear footsteps _coming their way_.

            They’d been too loud, Alfred realized.  _Shit_.

            “Into the passageway,” he whispered urgently, only for Mary to blanch – even more than she already had – and shake her head.

            “There isn’t one in this room,” she moaned, “It’s in the hallway!”

            Alfred blinked, before he scanned the room – which looked so different in its disarray than it had when he’d first seen it – and the moment he realized which room they were in, he realized she was _right_.  The secret passage way opened from behind the locking mechanism on the wall _next_ to the door, where the lantern was hooked into the wall.

            “Are you sure, Private?” a voice said skeptically, and they all hushed once more as they realized how _close_ it was.  Alfred gestured furiously for them all to hide, before he flattened himself and rolled under the large, ornate chest of drawers that was situated on the wall where he _knew_ the secret passage was.  But God help them, there was no _entrance_ from this room!  “We searched through the whole building earlier, I highly doubt we missed anything.”

            “I’m sure sir!” the younger voice protested, “I heard laughter.  And didn’t the Admiral say there were likely to be secret passage ways?  We might’ve missed someone.”

            “Well,” the elder voice mused, and he felt ice drip down his veins, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to _check_ …go fetch some of the others, we’ll give the area a quick search.  The Admiral isn’t _too_ impatient yet, we could probably get away with some extra time.”

            Footsteps moved – _away_ , thank God – and he scrambled from where he’d been hiding to press his ear against the door frame.  Hissed warnings of alarm came from all three of his friends but he ignored them as he cocked his head to listen.

            The superior officer was still there, he knew.  Only one set of footsteps had gone off, and that still left the elder man.  Heavens only knew why he’d abandoned his position to squat near the doorway when the risk was so great….

            “I guess it doesn’t really matter,” the redcoat in the hallway mused, and he froze, “anyone in the building won’t live to get out once the Admiral is done.  A grand gesture indeed.”  The officer chuckled and moved away from the hallway, abandoning the area’s search, even _knowing_ that there was a chance there were enemies just behind one of the doors.  How could he be so _careless_ – ?

            _Anyone in the building won’t live to get out_.

            Fuck.  They had to _go_.

            “Out,” he hissed the moment the footsteps had faded out of range, “we have to get out!”

            “But the redcoats,” Mary protested, but Alfred cut her off.

            “Have left – because they think we won’t make it anyways if we don’t _get out now_.”

            “How?” Jesse demanded, pulling himself out of where he’d flattened himself against the wall behind the bed’s headboard, “They’ll be covering all the exits, and if they’re aware of the secret passageways, they’ll be keeping an eye on the exits the moment they know there are people inside the White House that aren’t supposed to be there!”

            Alfred bit back the instinctive protest that came, viciously countering with the fact that the redcoats were the ones who shouldn’t be in the building, but the bad feeling that had been dripping ice down his back from the moment he’d heard Mary say something about a “grand gesture,” came flooding back, and it silenced the protests.  He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he said, “If we don’t leave now, _we won’t leave ever_.”

            _That_ silenced everyone really quickly.

            He pressed his ear to the crack in the door to double check the lack of voices and pushed the wooden portal open carefully.  His friends filed into the hallway, anxious, and Alfred gently let the door close without more than a soft thud, barely audible to their ears.  Mary, by then, had opened the secret passage way, and was hustling Anna and Jesse through.  Alfred had only barely started pushing himself through the small entryway when they heard footsteps coming their way – likely the private who’d returned with a group of his fellows to investigate – and he had to refrain his urge to freeze.  Instead, he pulled himself through the rest of the way, clinging on to a white-faced Mary and using Jesse’s strong arm to keep himself from tripping or giving himself away.  Within seconds he was through, and they hurriedly closed the entry way.  Not a second too soon either, because they could hear the soft murmurs of voices coming closer and getting louder.

            Alfred clasped hands with two of his friends, and _dragged_ them forwards and _away_ from the incoming soldiers and out towards the exits.  They run, not even caring to be quiet, as they take their cue from Alfred, whose blood was the chill of ice as he thought more and more about what was going to happen.  He had _such_ a bad feeling.

            The scent of green and gunpowder, and _oil_ – of all things – snuck into his nose and he froze, the others nearly careening into him.  Jesse _actually_ collided with the stationary Mary, and they both knocked into Anna, who snagged Alfred’s arm, and sent them all sprawling.

            They looked at each other for a split second, and a smile twitched on all their faces, before noises came from nearby and they remembered what was going on.  Alfred was the first to his feet, despite the dress and the weight of all the _other_ things on his person, and he followed the half-remembered pathway and the rapidly intensifying scent to the exit along the building’s side garden.  He pressed his ear against the exit wall, listening carefully for any sound out of the usual, and after a minute, he triggered the opening mechanism, and carefully lifted himself through the grate.  The overcast clouds that greeted him were a welcome sight, but he didn’t take long to look.  The feeling was coming back even stronger than usual, so he whirled around and helped the rest of his friends through.  Once they were all clear, he resettled the grate into its place, and they rushed for the bushes that concealed part of the yard.

            They clear the exit just in time.

            “Clear out the building!” a voice called from nearby, and they froze, flattening against the bushes they were hiding behind, “The Admiral’s about to set it alight, chaps!  Get everyone out.”  His blood froze in his veins.

            _No.  No, they wouldn’t…they wouldn’t do such a thing to him.  His father **wouldn’t** …_

            He didn’t remember making his way to where the redcoats were congregated, eagerly watching.  He didn’t hear the hissed warnings, or the quiet alarm from his friends.  He almost didn’t feel the way Anna and Jesse were supporting him the moment he saw his father standing beside the beloved building he’d helped build with his own hands… _no, please…he wouldn’t_.  This _couldn’t_ be the feeling that had sunk ice into his veins.  _Please_ , it _couldn’t be_.

            Anna and Jesse held him up, and suddenly he could _see_.

            _No – no surely they wouldn’t…_

            He hadn’t known of York.  He hadn’t known that his men would tear through the border and light his brother’s capitol on fire.  He’d sent them with a message, not sanctioned _arson_!  But his brother had never listened.  His _father_ had never listened, not even when all the Congress and even the guilty parties themselves had _admitted to it_!  He’d never begrudge his brother’s need for revenge, every nation had one, after all.  He couldn’t even blame Matthew for involving England, because that was entirely the fault of his own government’s declaration.

            _No – no they **won’t** -!_

            But he didn’t think, that in all the years a nation would live, he would ever be able to forget the way England had struck the match against the house’s foundation, had held it in front of him, green eyes aglow and smirking in the match-light, before passing it to Math- _Canada_.  And he’d never be able to forgive the way his brother’s eyes gleamed and that he’d _smiled_ so genuinely as he knelt down to his beautiful White House and set it alight.

            He stumbled away, pushing back his friends, who’d been holding him up to see.  He could feel the way the pain was trailing up his veins, ready to ignite and _catch_ and set his city alight.  But first, they had to move; he wasn’t done with this yet.  He had people he needed to keep safe, and God damn the bastard who’d spawned him, but he wasn’t done _yet_.

            “Bleedin’ Hell, Lee,” Anna gasped, which would’ve given any normal man an aneurysm just to hear that coming out of a woman’s mouth, none of their group flinched, “What did you see?”

            “Pull back,” he groaned, lips curling into a scowl, “We have to leave.  Before they find us here, quickly!”  They pulled him from where they’d been crouching in the bush border of the White House, dodging the steadily growing group of redcoats near the front, and nearly collapsed out near what would later become the National Mall.  And it wasn’t a moment too soon, as just as they stopped, it hit him.

            He felt a wave of pain assault him, and he dropped to one knee, arms coming to wrap around himself to smother the agony assaulting him.  And he knew, despite it all, what was happening even before the worried voices of his friends surrounded him.

            “Crimony,” Jesse exclaimed, stumbling over the rocky road behind them, staring with utter horror at the plume of smoke and flame that was now rising _far_ too close for comfort, “Those limey bastards set the White House aflame!”

            “Go,” he croaked, before forcing himself to his feet.  His friends all around them were staring in horror at the tragedy that was unfolding, the burning in his heart was only equivalent to the searing agony of betrayal, and he had no room for either.  They had to _live_.  And he couldn’t get caught.  He spotted the group of redcoats approaching, and he forced himself to stand taller, “We have to _go!_   They’re coming our way!”

            “We have to stand our ground!” Mary growled, taking a shielding position in front of Alfred, glancing over her shoulder at the three of them, “They have to know we won’t stand for this!”

            “We have to _live_!” he snarled, “We have to complete our mission!  We can’t give them the satisfaction of capturing us, Mary!  You’re the one in the soldier uniform, you’ll be the first one they take!”  The idea of retreat burned, almost as strongly as the way his city’s misfortune was searing itself atop his heart.  But these were his people, and even if it was to be his last, bitter victory, he would keep them alive until his father ripped him from their arms.

            He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her close, desperation he wouldn’t dare voice shining in his eyes, “ _Please_ Mary,” he said, “we _have_ to move.  And I’m _not leaving you behind_.”  Her honey eyes softened, and his grip tightened around her as Anna and Jesse came to stand in similar defensive positions around them both.

            What did he do to deserve their loyalty?  He wondered, sometimes, at how pure their love was for him.  It made his family’s betrayals that much more bearable, the all-encompassing nature of their love for him.

            “None of us are leavin’ ya,” Jesse drawled, and Anna grinned, tugging out a polished silver knife from her sash – one of the same ones they’d saved from the now burning building – “We’ll fight if we have to!”

            “Let’s see how bloody Britain’s gentlemen battle a pair o’ladies and a dab-handed young scoundrel or two,” Anna smirked.

            The first shouts of the redcoats who’d seen them headed their way, and they whirled to see the fresh unit of well-fed, well-trained men headed their way.  Jesse stared a split second longer, before turning to them and saying, “Well…anyone else have second thoughts on that?”

            They had to live.  He breathed in the ashes of the White House – his beloved capitol – as they swirled in the air, but he seized the warm, living, _breathing_ arms of his friends and he dragged them away.  So, he steeled his heart, for _them_.  He walled away all the emotions that came to him as a nation, as a brother…as a son.  Soot-stained, exhausted, and driven, he dragged them away, and they ran with him.  The ashes of their world flooded the air all around, but he refused to let them go along with it.

* * *

           Canada’s violet-eyed gaze trailed a small group of fleeing people – a mix, from what he could tell – a civilian man, two women and a soldier – and focused on their dilemma.

            “Should we go after them?” he inquired, and England’s venomous eyes turned to him, contemplative.  He glanced out at the fleeing Americans, eyes catching at one of the young women who was dragging a soldier alongside with her, soot-stained and tired but moving quickly, before he shook his head.

            “No,” the Empire responded, “if the civilians are fleeing, let them.  If the soldiers are unarmed, capture them or allow them their retreat.  Keep burning the government buildings, leave the fully civilian areas to catch on in their own time.”  The nation sighed and turned to make his way back to their troops.

            “…and what of Alfred?” he asked, hesitantly, halting the Empire in his tracks.

            “If you _find him_ ,” gloved fists clenched, and Matthew flinched from the creak the musket made in Arthur’s hand, “ _bring_ him to me.”  And with that, the Empire stormed off.

            He stood there, at the top of a hill in the city, overlooking the burning White House and the fleeing civilians, and he felt an odd chill shiver down his spine.  He caught sight of the small group he’d noted earlier, and nearly recoiled at the glare being sent his way.  For a split second, it was as if his brother had been superimposed on the pale-faced, blue-vested young woman who’d stopped her frantic flight to glare at him.

            Blue eyes glowered at him from the distance, clear as crystal set in the young woman’s hate-filled visage, and he couldn’t help the feeling that they wouldn’t find Alfred, even if they swathed the entire nation in a blaze of flame.

            He turned, wondering why he suddenly felt like the world was collapsing around him when it should be happening to his _brother_ , and followed the Empire back to camp.

 


End file.
